


Seat Next to You

by dreadwyrmspawn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Blow Jobs, Consensual Sex, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Misunderstandings, Pining, Road Trip, Sharing a Bed, Strangers to Lovers, bus trip, meet cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28774548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadwyrmspawn/pseuds/dreadwyrmspawn
Summary: Dean hops on a greyhound headed across the country for his brother’s graduation when he meets Castiel, the wayward son of recently deceased author and screenwriter Chuck Shurley. Castiel is running away from his life, carrying his father's legacy on his back; and Dean is caught up along the way, learning a bit about his own in the process.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

“What? No, I’ll make it in time, Sammy,” Dean said as he tilted his wrist to look at an imaginary watch as if his brother could see him through the payphone. The sun glared at him through the glass box and he mentally added sunglasses to his shopping list, too.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Dean could nearly hear his brother put his hands on his hips as he sighed into the phone, “graduation is in a week.”

“That’s plenty of time! I’m not Forrest Gump-ing my way to you,” he looked back at the bus station behind him, watching the old tired coach buses pull in and out of the lot. A peak back at the sun told him it was noon, and his departure was approaching, “I gotta go, Sammy, I’ll call you once we stop again.”

“You could be like a normal twenty-something and get a cellphone, Dean—”

“Yeah, with what money? I’ll call you later, bitch.”

“Jerk,” bit harshly out of the phone as Dean hung it up. He picked his duffle off the floor of the phonebooth and ran back into the station, fumbling for his ticket in his jacket pocket. 

“Last call, El Paso!” crackled over the old intercom as Dean finally made it to the loading zone. He shrugged off his duffle, tossing it into the pile with the rest of the luggage in front of the bus and handed his ticket to the driver and climbed the stairs. 

“Dammit,” he cursed as he stood in the aisle, the bus basically filled to capacity. The back was full, and the middle school cred inside him told him there was no way in hell he would sit up front. One seat sat unoccupied in the middle of the bus, but its row mate did not. Conceding to the child inside of him he took the seat in the middle.

With a heavy huff he sat down, rattling the row of seats. The young man seated next to him looked over, offering an unsure half smile. 

“Sorry,” Dean apologized as he pulled his leather jacket off. The bus full of people sitting on the Texas asphalt did no favors for the climate of the cabin.

“You’re fine,” The man said, the smile more earnest as the skin crinkled around his blue eyes, “first time traveling by bus?”

“How’d you know?” Dean asked, a nervous laugh punching out of his chest.

“Well, it’s almost June and you thought a leather jacket was an appropriate thing to wear,” The man pointed out as he outstretched his hand, “My name is Castiel.”

Dean returned the handshake.  _ Odd name. _ He settled back down in his seat and dug out his walkman from his jacket pocket, “Dean.”

“Nice to meet you, Dean.”

“Yep.” Dean nodded before plopping his headphones over his ears and closing his eyes. Soon after the bus started to roll, and with Foreigner’s  _ Starrider _ whispering into his ears, lulled him to sleep. 

* * *

The tires of the bus pitched up hard as it hit a pothole, jarring Dean awake. He grumbled, and tried to find slumber again, except one thing was missing.

Music.

He pressed down on the play button once more, but the headphones stayed silent.

“Oh, come on! Are you serious?” He muttered under his breath and went to pop out the spent batteries, before realizing— 

“No spares?” Castiel asked from beside him.

“They’re in my duffle,” Dean sighed, staring down at the floorboards under his feet, as if he could will himself into the cargo hold.

“You didn’t bring a carry on?”

Shoulders pinched up into a shrug as he rolled his eyes at the stranger. “No. I— I didn’t think I,” he stammered out an excuse as his tongue slid out to lick his dry lips.

Castiel laughed next to him, pout-filled lips stretching into a tight gummy smile. Dean licked his lips again. 

“You haven’t traveled much period. Have you?”

“N—no,” almost came out as a whisper. A dirty secret full of shame that even well into his twenties he never left home.

“Where are you from?”

“Kansas.”

“And where are you headed?”

“California.” Dean cut himself off, before he could divulge more to the stranger next to him. Castiel didn’t need his sad life story about how Sam was the only family he had left, and his insane— borderline mental— pride he felt for his brother.

“And you, Cas?”

For a brief second his brow pinched together before softening. Dean’s breath caught in his throat at the sight.

“Sorry, I—”

But Castiel— Cas, now— shrugged, letting the intimacy of a nickname  _ from a stranger _ roll off his back.

“I’m from… I suppose technically I’m from Illinois,” Blue eyes were trained on the roof of the bus, gliding from side to side as if his answer was written there, “I’ve lived in too many places to have a place to call home.”

Dean’s eyes widened at the answer, a bit of jealousy burning in the pit of his stomach. “Sounds like the life.”

Cas shrugged again and chuckled, his gaze dropping to look at Dean. The sun caught on his eyes, shimmering like a leaded glass. The breath hitched in Dean’s chest as he bit down on the inside of his cheek.  _ Stop _ . He chided himself all while wishing he could dive into those blue eyes and drown.

“It was give and take. My brothers always adapted to it better than I did.”

Dean snorted, forcing his head to lean back into the seat to look away from Cas, “sounds familiar. My brother is the well adjusted one, too.”

“Is that who you’re going to see in California?”

“Yeah. Sam’s graduating from college,” a soft smile spread across Dean’s face as if he were a parent bragging about a child.

“Oh, well congratulations to him.”

Dean hummed, the warm sun coming through the window relaxing him all over again. He let his head fall to the side. Golden beams dancing across Cas’ profile in a soft halo. Dean forced the blossoming heat out of his chest.

“You didn’t tell me where you’re going.”

“I’m not sure yet,” Cas admitted with a gentle smile, “I’m just going until I find a reason to stop.”

* * *

The bus pulled into the next station in San Antonio. It was getting later in the afternoon, and Dean felt the pit of his stomach bottoming out in starvation. He stood with a groan and began to file off the bus.

“Be back in 30 minutes.” The driver said over the intercom as Dean hopped off the bottom step onto the hot asphalt below. 

His not-that-old body stiff and cracking with each extra inch he stretched. Arms reached high over his head, hiking up his shirt well over his stomach. Cold touches danced across the exposed skin and Dean yelped; his hands yanking his shirt back down.

Cas was next to him laughing, his fingers caught under Dean’s swift attempt to shield himself. He wiggled himself free, holding his hands next to his head in surrender. 

“Sorry, couldn’t help it,” Cas said in an almost serious tone.

“What’s wrong with you?” Dean accused, but quickly joined in with the laughing, bumping the smaller man with his shoulder.

“Little brother inside me,” Cas admitted with a shrug, “do you want to grab a bite real quick?”

Dean rolled his eyes with his whole body. Somehow he picked up another little brother. Just great. A loud growl of his stomach silenced any annoyance as not as important.

“I’m fucking starved,” Dean said and allowed Cas to lead the way into a convenience store next to the station. 

* * *

“Roller hotdogs, meal of champions,” Dean puffed out his chest as he handed one of the hotdogs to Cas and sat down on the bench next to him.

“Thanks,” Cas said around a mouthful of food, “did you get extra batteries?”

Dean’s face scrunched at the question, confused, “no, I already have extra batteries, I’ll get them when we switch buses in El Paso.”

Cas shook his head, “you do realize that’s an eight hour drive, plus whatever stops are made along the way.”

“Shit, really?”

Cas just nodded, unable to speak over his own laughter at the expense of his new dumbfounded friend.

Dean jammed his hand into his back pocket, fingers tightening around his wallet. A brief thought of buying extra extra batteries floated through his mind, but quickly was snuffed out by the less than a hundred bucks he had left in his wallet.

“Shut up,” He said nudging Cas’ knee with his, “I’ll find something to keep me occupied.”

“Yeah?” Cas hummed, his lips twitching into a smirk. His eyes darkened for a split second, Dean was sure of it.

“Not sick of me yet, are ya?”

Cas shook his head, a few stay curls brushing down across his forehead. Dean’s fingers twitched around his soda bottle, itching to put the errant strands back in place. 

“Almost. But not quite.”

“Well, then,” Dean clapped his free hand over Cas’ knee to sate the need for contact. Hot sparks fired from his fingers into his gut, twisting and turning in corkscrews.

_ Shit. _

Dean leaped to his feet, quickly walking away from  _ all that _ . He scratched nervously at the back of his neck before turning his head to call out to Cas.

“Let’s hurry, before they leave without us!” And then broke out into a sprint back to the bus. Nervous energy turning the butterflies into sharp daggers inside his lungs.

_ Shit. Shit. Shit. _


	2. Chapter 2

Some higher power must have been watching him fuck up because the bus was a bit more empty when they returned to their seats. Small tremors shook Dean’s hands as he pulled his jacket off his seat and claimed the one across the aisle. Cas tilted his head to the side in confusion; lips parted in a small ‘oh’ and then settled in a pout. Dean sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on the dry skin.

He  _ has _ to be oblivious, Dean convinced himself as he slid over to lean against the window. He kicked his feet up on the other seat and covered his chest with his jacket, watching as Cas finally settled into Dean’s old seat.

“Might as well stretch out while I can,” Dean offered as an excuse. The itching crawled from his chest and down his arms, making his fingers flex under the heavy leather jacket. A simple— an  _ accidental _ — taste and now Dean could not fight the feelings burning into his heart. Dean groaned and rolled his face into the seat back. Hard plastic between the seats cut into his thighs, uncomfortable physical pressure overpowering the self-inflicted mental anguish. 

Cas simply nodded, dropping his book bag in the empty seat next to him. Dean watched out the corner of his eye as he fished around inside of it, not sure how he missed him carrying it around earlier. He pulled a few magazines out, leaning over the aisle to hand them to Dean.

“Something for you to read, if you get bored,” Cas said, a small smile tugging at his lips. Dean folded over himself to reach the magazines, catching the blue eyes staring up at him through long lashes and mess of curls. His chest tightened all over again and Dean clicked his tongue, mouth running dry. 

“Thanks,” he muttered as he settled back against the window. The collection of magazines was all over the place. A  _ National Geographic _ ,  _ TIME _ (with something about the Iraq War on the cover, Dean moved this one to the bottom of the pile,) a few gossip rags, and  _ Popular Mechanics.  _ The cover article was also military related, but there had to at least be something in it to hold his attention for awhile— anything that wasn’t the blue eyes and gummy smile and skipped heart beats sitting across from him. 

* * *

_ Ding. _

_ Ding. _

_ Ding. _

The soft, inconsistent beeping was driving him mad. He had read the same line about tanks in the desert three times now before he closed the magazine all together, his attention attuned to the notification alerts growing in number.

A bulky laptop sat on the food tray in front of Cas, who was furiously tapping on the keyboard as a blackberry vibrated and chimed next to him. Cas groaned as he shut the laptop lid and answered the phone.

“Michael—” Cas was quickly cut off by the other voice on the line. His head fell forward until his chin hit his chest, peering up at the roof of the bus like the person on the line loomed over him instead. Dean let out a fond chuckle, recognizing the look instantly. One Sam had given him many times to try to get out of trouble. It never worked.

“I am on a bus, I don’t want to talk… No, my feelings on the matter are not going to change… I don’t care what Luce said to you… Do you ever think dad entrusted the manuscript to me for a reason?!... We are not having this conversation right now.” Dean felt bad listening, but as the conversation got more heated he couldn’t ignore it. The passion and anger were palpable, demanding any and all attention Dean had. The lines creased Cas’ forehead as his teeth glinted in a snarl. Voice rough and hushed, trying to keep his volume down. The bright eyes were dark storms as he continued to fight over the phone. It felt like Dean was wrapped in a bubble with Cas, where they were transferred to a place that wasn’t currently screaming down the I-10 at seventy miles an hour.

Cas pulled the blackberry away from his ear as his face twisted in disgust. Dean could hear the yelling carry from the speaker before it went dead as Cas smashed the ‘end call’ button. 

With the beep of the button the bubble burst, the ambient noise of the other riders settling back against his ears.

“Family trouble?” Dean asked as he dropped his feet from the seat between the two of them with a muted thud. 

Cas shrugged, his gaze settling on the now open seat as his fingers drummed against the lid of his laptop. “Ah, you heard that?” He asked as he bowed his head to hide the pink that brushed across his cheeks. 

“Didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“No, it’s OK. I didn’t have to take the call.” Cas said as he shoved his laptop back into his bag with a low huff, “the texting was getting old. I hate the little buttons.”

Dean rolled his eyes, at least Cas had a cellphone to complain about. And one with a good texting plan, considering the amount of beeping Dean had heard. 

Cas stood and hopped the aisle to the seat next to Dean. The heat radiated off him, but if it was residual anger or embarrassment Dean couldn’t place it. Cas sat up straight and peered over the seats before he settled down into the seat, his back slouched and melted into the upholstery. 

“My brother, Michael, is trying to contest my dad’s will,” His voice was low, a hushed whisper in their small shared space. 

Dean froze, his brain refusing to process the information Cas had so willingly shared with what amounted to a stranger he would never see again in a few short hours. 

But perhaps that was the point. Dean could handle being a sounding board. It was certainly better than reading about American Imperialism. 

Neurons finally fired and Dean’s face softened, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Lips quivered and Cas nodded, “Thanks, it’s OK. I am OK. It has been almost four months now.”

Dean placed a reassuring hand on Cas’ knee, and for once his heart didn’t race into his throat. “I wasn’t asking if you were OK, I know losing a parent is rough.” Dean bit the inside of his cheek, now who was divulging too much information? Dean shook his head, “that’s shitty is all— what your brother is doing.”

Cas reached out, his fingers cupping around Dean’s hand. The touch was gentle, the tremors shaking doubt loose. Dean took a chance, turning his palm and their fingers laced together there against his knee. 

“Brothers,” Cas corrected him, grip tightening on Dean’s hand. A lifeline to anchor him to that spot, to let reality fray just enough to soften the edges. Cas leaned forward until his forehead came in contact with the seat in front of him. The row was empty so Dean copied his motion, tilting his head to watch the smaller man beside him. Shadows cutting dark lines along Cas’ profile. Blue eyes turned dark and inky as they closed against the forming tears. The sounds of the bus ride faded again and the uneven breathing next to him the only sound flooding his ears.

“Is it money?”

“I wish it was easy like that,” A heavy sigh punched itself out of Cas’ chest, “dad was a successful author, mostly print but had a hand in any adaptations, too,” he explained, hushed and low again like it was a secret, “anyway dad left me his unfinished manuscript, and Mike wants it to sell to the network, and Luce is antagonizing all of it.”

“And you don’t?”

“No,” Cas said with a shrug, “it’s hard to explain. My whole childhood lived in this fictitious earth my dad wrote about. My bedtime stories were mundane goings on that never were put to paper. A tribe that lived in a forest. The way the glaciers carved through the far north. Kind of what made it living, breathing, you know?”

Dean didn’t, but he nodded like he understood anyway. “So it’s too personal?”

“Not even that,” Cas let a bitter chuckle out, “it’s just not finished. And I don’t want someone that has no clue writing the ending.” 

Cas sat back up, and Dean’s body followed. He placed his free hand on Cas’ shoulder, feeling the warmth and anger swirl under his fingertips. It was far too intimate, but Dean’s heart stayed steady; like it was the requirement of whatever this relationship was about to grow into.

Outside the bus slowed as it pulled off the interstate. Neither of the men noticed, too busy losing themselves in a whirlwind.

* * *

“Wait, wait! Your dad is The Chuck Shurley?” Dean exclaimed he leaned over the table at the waffle house the bus had stopped at for the last time before El Paso, “I love the  _ Altered Earth _ series.”

“Shut  _ up _ ,” Cas whined as he sunk into the booth, his cheeks dusted pink all over again.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dean apologized as he idly thumbed through the menu in front of him before slamming it shut, “the creation myth it’s just so…” Dean trailed off, unable to find the words to articulate his feelings, “anyway.”

Cas softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. There was still a sadness bubbling under it all. “It’s fine, I like hearing people are fans of his work.”

Dean nodded and the air fell silent around them.

“Can I ask something, unrelated?”

“What?”

“Can I borrow your cell?”

“Oh— yeah.”

The regret was instant as soon as Dean actually looked at the phone in his hand. There were absolutely too many buttons on it,  _ and a whole keyboard _ , which was just distracting to him. “Um…”

A soft chuckle hit Dean’s ears as Cas reached out to show Dean how to use the scroll wheel on the side of the phone. The touch was like a whisper against his hand, overpowered by the sparks traveling through Dean’s chest.

After opening the actual phone call application Dean dialed his brother’s number.

“Hiya, Sammy.”

“Dean. What’s up?”

Dean shrugged, his gaze shifting up to Cas for a moment before he looked back down at the menu, “Uh, we just stopped for dinner, so I thought I’d check in. There are still four more hours until El Paso— dude did you know how fucking  _ big _ Texas is?”

“Yes, yes, I did.”

Sam fell silent on the other end, “Sammy, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t worry about it—”

“Oh well, now I’m gonna worry!” Dean shook his head. There was never a lie Sam could really tell Dean. Some inconsequential things Dean always let slide, but Sam’s tone always gave him away.

“Uh, Eileen and I were thinking of getting an apartment togeth—”

“Who’s Eileen?”

It was at that moment the waitress came by for their orders.  _ Figures.  _ He shoved the menu at Cas, pointing at the pancakes hoping he understood and turned away from them in the booth.

“My, uh, she’s my girlfriend.”

A manic laugh crashed out of him suddenly, causing Sam to spit curses at him, “Aww, my lil’ Sammy has a girlfriend he wants to move in with.”

“Dean, I’m serious!”

“No, no, I got that,” Dean laughed, swiping at the tears forming in his eyes.

“Yeah, well,” Sam cleared his throat, “we found a place but the deposit is a hundred.”

Dean sighed and shifted to pull his wallet out of his back pocket, “I have eighty.”

“Can you spare fifty?”

Dean looked up at the ceiling, the math running through his head. He theoretically could probably make it since his remaining tickets were already purchased, but food would be tight.

“Yeah, no sweat.”

“Yeah? Thanks, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you again tomorrow before we leave this massive country of a state.”

“Later, jerk.”

Dean hummed, “later, bitch.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your patience as i worked through this chapter. as always i appreciate all your support. 💙💚

The duffle bag dropped with a thud as Dean collapsed on one of the benches inside the El Paso station. He had sat for far too long, but was still too exhausted to stay on his feet. There was a frustration bubbling under his skin. His chest was tight, like it was hard to keep oxygen in his lungs. Inside the heat was turbulent, but his skin was ice cold in the stale air of the station. The throbbing beat in his ears was making him dizzy, he needed it to quiet down before he got sick.

He fished out the spare batteries from his duffle bag along with a sweatshirt that would make a good makeshift pillow. This was the part of life he was unfortunately used to, sleeping on old benches, cold and hard digging into his back. A low grumble stuck in his chest as he put his headphones over his ears and covered his chest with his leather jacket. 

He had almost found purchase in sleep when he felt someone shake his shoulder. He swatted at them, but it wouldn’t deter the action from repeating.

“Dean.”

It was Cas. His own name rolled deep and tender inside Dean’s skull. It sent shivers through his soul and Dean bit the inside of his cheek as he pulled the headphones down.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping?” The word left Dean’s lips just as confused as Cas had sounded.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” Dean sighed and pushed himself up to sit, his feet still stretched out in front of him. “The bus to California doesn’t leave until the morning.”

“There’s a hotel across the street, though,” Cas said as his head tilted to the side, blue eyes squinting as they watched Dean.

Dean froze. “I, uh,” He swallowed the knot in his throat, not sure how he could explain the answer away.

“Is it because you told your brother he could have the money?” Cas asked in a painfully blunt way. Dean winced and grit his teeth habitually in defiance of the accusation. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to listen to your conversation.”

Dean sighed and waved his hand dismissively. He dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward to card his fingers through his hair. “Yeah,” he muttered with a small nod. 

Cas shifted on his feet, “I can help you, Dean,” his tongue darted out to lick his dry lips. Eyes deep and dark as they stared down at Dean. It set his nerves on fire, tightening everything in his chest, breaths sticking in his lungs.

“I-it’s fine,” Dean tried to argue, but found himself throwing his stuff back into his bag anyway, “it was nice traveling with you today, Cas, but I’m fine, really.”

“I’m not.”

Dean’s eyes blew wide as the bustle around him came to a screeching halt. There was no processing as Cas reached down to haul him to his feet. Their chests bumped together, and Dean looked down at the barely shorter man. The fluorescent lights casting horrible shadows down the angles of Cas’ face as he tilted his chin up. Stubble scratched across Dean’s cheek, and he could smell the pancake syrup still on Cas’ breath stealing the air from his lungs. “Don’t argue and take the charity,” His voice was hushed and cut straight through any dignity Dean may have held close.

Dean swallowed hard, only managing to slowly nod as his brain came back online. 

“Good,” Cas hummed as he tilted his head, his lips crashing into Dean’s. Dean yelped, but melted into the kiss all the same, his hands twisting into the straps of his duffle, afraid to touch Cas as his lips parted. The sticky sweet blueberry syrup kisses sent him higher, not caring if he would crash later.

He was lost.

* * *

Nerves were twisting daggers into his stomach as he followed behind Cas, his head hanging low. Cas had not let go of his hand once since he pulled him from the bench, and now with so many eyes on him the realization was turning everything sour in his gut. But if Cas was going to give him a bed to sleep on for the night, he was going to have to reciprocate. Not that it was a bad thing.

If Dean had to guess it was probably the raised eyebrows they got when Cas requested a room with a single bed that sent a strange confidence surging through him. The sickness stuffed down and was forgotten as his own grip tightened on Cas’ hand. 

Dean let Cas pull him through the hallway of the hotel, hot on his heels. The giddiness rushing through his veins felt foreign to him, a toxin that was making his whole soul light. His heart sped up as the ridiculousness of it all caught up with his brain. 

At the door the thought of seeing Cas naked over him (under him, Dean wasn’t going to be picky) was the only thing occupying his brain. Daydreams of Cas lithe body shirtless: he wondered how many of Cas’ bones he could see, if he could count the ribs, if collar or hip bones jutted out more. Electricity sparked through his body, curious fingers slipping under Cas’ shirt from behind. Dean rested his chin on Cas’ shoulder as the other man fumbled with the door keycard.

“Hurry up,” Dean whined as he nosed the soft skin behind Cas’ ear. The lock clicked and Dean forced the both of them through before it could open all the way, their bags dropped in a fire hazard pile as soon as it closed.

Dean reached out to grab Cas’ face, crashing their lips in a hungry kiss. Lips and teeth clashed in an attempt to find a rhythm as Cas’ free hands skidded across the wall to locate the lightswitch. The hideous yellow light flooded the small entryway, giving Dean just enough visual to guide Cas backwards through the room. 

The back of Cas’ knees knocked against the edge of the mattress when Dean realized he was somehow just fine standing in the middle of the room kissing Cas’ like a damn teenager. A moan sped out of Dean when Cas sucked his tongue into the soft warmth of his mouth. Any sensibilities were quickly dying as his hands found Cas' boney hips to grab. Desire fired through him like electricity as the sharp bone dug into his palms as he forced Cas to sit down on the bed. Their kiss broke with a pop when Dean fell to his knees in front of Cas. Wild blue eyes shadowed in lust stared down at him, the gaze drilling straight into his gut and lighting his whole body on fire. 

"Cas, I—" the name came out as a pant, Dean leaning forward to steal more short kisses from chapped lips. Stubble scratched and burned his face, smoking tinder to set his whole body ablaze. Every fiber in him demanded to touch and be touched. He surged forward again, pushing Cas back into the mattress, fingers clawing at the buttons on his shirt and threatening to pop them off along the way. 

The warm light from the entryway casted soft shadows across the newly exposed skin. Fingers slotted themselves between ribs, squeezing the tight flesh in his hand. All the blood in him was quickly rushing south and Dean hoped that Cas was having the same issues. He straddled a leg to find friction for his hardening dick. A grunt broke from Cas as his hips bucked up; Dean smirked, his free hand cupping the denim clad hard on, before two fingers hooked under the band of his jeans. 

"Dean—" his name fell from Cas' lips in a plea.

“What?” Dean hummed as he leaned forward over Cas, dragging teeth and tongue across his collarbone. Cas’ whole body quaked in pleasure under him.

“You don’t have to—” The words caught in his throat as he worked himself to find a better angle under Dean, his body betraying his words.

“I want to,” Dean answered in earnest, his hands wandering and exploring the new body under him, “and it seems like you want it too.”

“I—y—yes, but.”

Dean stilled all movements, forcing his body up and off Cas he sat there straddling the other man’s hips, but supporting his own weight on his knees.

“But.” Dean tried the best to hide any disappointment to not make Cas feel uncomfortable. He reached out, rubbing small circles into Cas’ shoulder as the best act of comfort he could give.

Cas covered Dean’s hand with his, as a small smile slipped onto his face. Dean sighed, his whole body rushing cold, as his heart rammed into his ribs for a whole different reason.

“I don’t really do one night stands,” Cas muttered, his gaze dipping somewhere to stare into the darkness of the hotel room.

Dean slid from the bed, stumbling back a few steps as his brain tried to restart itself. He took a few deep breaths to force oxygen through his system and stop the room from spinning. He was stuck, his mind racing way ahead of his mouth.

“I should go then—?” Dean’s statement strained into a question as his feet began to back peddle to where their bags were dropped.

Cas shuffled off the bed in a hurry, tripping over his own dumb feet. 

“No, wait!”

Dean froze, bent in half to pick his bag up. His hand hovered before his fist balled and he straightened.

“Sorry, Cas. I shouldn’t have assumed,” the apology spilled from him as his face burned red. He prayed it was invisible under the crappy overhead light, “when you got one bed—I—I thought that meant you wanted to sleep with me.”

“I do.”

“What?”

“I do. I want to sleep with you,” Cas continued to trip over his feet and his words as he moved across the room to where Dean stood anchored by the door. “But, like, sleep sleep—”

Dean couldn’t help it, a hardy laugh barked out of him taking all his oxygen with it. He could feel the skin pull around his eyes and lips as a stupid grin broke out.

“I— it’s not funny, Dean. I— I was being serious!” Cas huffed, and Dean could see a deep blush rush up his neck and cheeks. Even the tops of his ears turned hot.

“Oh boy,” Dean shook his head, wiping the wetness from the corner of his eye, “no I get that. I— I shouldn’t be laughing—” he tried to apologize as more broken chuckles fell from his lips. 

“Sorry,” Dean finally managed as he took a deep breath to force air back into his lungs. “You’re cute, Cas.”

“Thanks?”

Dean closed the space between them, reaching out to cup the side of Cas’ face in his palm, “can I still kiss you?”

A lopsided smile quirked on his lips, “you better.”

* * *

The steam from the shower poured out into the room when Dean opened the bathroom door. His whole body relaxed, tension and grime of the day currently circling the drain. His pajama pants baggy over his feet as he padded across the room. Cas was sitting on the bed, typing on his laptop. Dean slid in next to him, nosing Cas’ neck to gain access. Cas let his head fall to the side so Dean could kiss along his jaw.

“Whatcha doin’?” Dean asked as he finally settled onto the bed, his head coming to rest on Cas’ shoulder.

“Notes on the manuscript,” Cas said with a yawn he closed the laptop lid, “but I’m too tired to concentrate.”

Cas slid from the bed to put his laptop up and Dean allowed himself to fall over in dramatic fashion. He starfished out on the bed, burying his head under the stack of the pillows.

“Child,” Cas chided as his fingers dug into the exposed skin above Dean’s hip bones causing the other to yelp as goosebumps surged across his skin.

“You’re the one tickling me, child!” Dean snapped as he rolled over, hugging his arms to himself tightly to protect from more of an onslaught.

An arm came down next to Dean’s head and the bed shifted as Cas leaned down to kiss him slow and lazy. There was no rush, Dean realized, when he knew there was no finish line to get across. He untangled himself and looped his arms around Cas’ neck and pulled him down.

“Fine you’re forgiven, for now.”

Cas chuckled, deep and honeyed as he curled into Dean’s side, limbs draped haphazardly.

“What time does the bus leave tomorrow?”

“Ten, I think.” Dean said as he buried his nose in Cas’ still damp curls.

“We’ll have to go earlier so I can buy a ticket, too.”

“Oh,” Dean’s grip tightened on Cas. It didn’t register with him that he wasn’t actually traveling with Cas, just next to him. Did this mean they were going to start? 

“That is, if it’s alright.” Cas craned his neck to look up at Dean, who gave a small nod, “Like I said, I don’t exactly have a destination in mind, and clearly enjoy your company.”

Dean shook his head, stretching awkwardly to plant a kiss on his forehead before settling back into the pillows. “Yeah, sounds like a plan.”


End file.
